


holy ground.

by lordvoldyfarts



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballet, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldyfarts/pseuds/lordvoldyfarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Clarke comes back into the room, her face still red, but no longer looking angry. “One more time,” she says and Lexa doesn’t respond. She just gets into position. She stands in front of the mirror and Clarke comes up behind her. Her hands on her hips, similar to the way they had been that night, and Lexa feels the same rush of attraction flow through her that she did then. She tries to push it down, to pretend it’s not there, but Clarke’s grip is tight and impossible to ignore. She feels her muscles tense. “Relax,” Clarke whispers in her ear and there’s a chill that goes down her spine. She’s surprised when she feels her shoulders loosen. “Don’t think so much, Lexa,” Clarke continues and Lexa takes a deep breath.</i>
</p><p>
or the one where lexa is a principal dancer with the boston ballet who lives life with her eyes closed and clarke, a new dancer from anaheim, opens them. dancer!au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holy ground.

There’s something to be said about Boston in winter.

The cobblestone streets are covered in snow and the trees on Commonwealth Avenue are laced with lights. It truly is a beautiful sight.

One that Lexa often views from the floor to ceiling windows in the studio space. Rehearsals for The Nutcracker began in early October with shows the full month of December. She’s barely been able to leave the studio to sleep, let alone to enjoy the weather.

It’s New Year’s Eve and the last show has just finished. Lexa is pulling pins from her bun, listening to the chatter of the women behind her. She ought not to be listening. Eavesdropping is extremely rude. But she can’t help herself. If anything, she’s the victim of proximity. She can see them in the mirror. Octavia is pulling her bag onto her shoulder, still chatting with Harper. Lexa makes eye contact with her in the mirror. She pauses and looks at Lexa with a sympathetic smile. “Hey, we’re going to The Merchant, if you want to come with?” She asks and Lexa knows it’s a sympathy invite. She shakes her head.

“No,” She says abruptly. “Thank you,” She adds when she sees Octavia flinch in the reflection. She frowns.

“Alright, maybe next time!” She says as she and Harper push open the door and leave the powder room. She hears Harper mutter something, what she can’t quite make out, and Octavia laugh. She’s sure it’s about her. She’s never been able to click with the other people in the company. She’s never quite wanted to. She’s always been focused on moving up. And even though she’s a principal now, there’s still work to be done. She’s never had a leading role. And she wants one. More than she can possibly express.

She’s the last one out of the Opera house. By the time she finishes taking off her makeup and changing out of her tights, the only other person left in the theater is the janitor.

It’s snowing when she pushes the doors of the theater open. The wind pushes her hair into her face and she doesn’t bother pushing it back. It flies in front of her eyes and still, she doesn’t uncross her arms.

She’s walking past a park when the bells chime and ring in the New Year.

She doesn’t have a lot of hope for 2016 but then again, she hasn’t had hope for a New Year in quite a long time.

-

Company class is at 8am and Lexa is always in the studio by 7:15. She likes to get in some time alone in front of the mirrors before everyone else arrives. She makes sure she’s tucked away in a corner, listening to her ipod when everyone else gets there.

She’s adjusting her pointe shoes, looking out the window toward the greenery across the street when the artistic director clears his throat, calling for the company’s attention.

When Lexa looks up, she sees a new blonde standing next to Marcus. “Everybody this is Clarke Griffin. She is joining our group of principal dancers from the Anaheim Ballet. Make her feel at home,” he announces. There’s a slight smattering of applause. Lexa keeps stretching. “10 minutes and I want everyone at the barre,” he yells as he starts to walk away. She unpauses her music and focuses on stretching her foot.

She stands, going into demi-pointe to make sure her feet are perfectly stretched. She walks toward the barre. She finds her usual spot, the first on the edge closest to the mirror, and places her hand on the barre.

The new girl, Clarke, stands behind her. Her hair is in a loose ponytail and instead of a leotard, she wears a tight crop top and spanx. While the sight makes her cheeks flush because she  _ does  _ appreciate an attractive woman, it’s extremely unprofessional. Lexa would never show up, even to a company class, dressed that way. “Hey,” Clarke says and Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Hello,” she replies with a respectful nod in her direction. She hopes her introductory is nod is enough for her because Lexa does not into keep speaking - she’s focused now and she doesn’t have the time for distractions.

“It’s so cold here, how do you survive it?” Clarke continues and Lexa clenches her jaw. Clearly not.

“Adaptation,” Lexa shoots back, as blandly as possible.

“Even in these buildings it’s freezing. Do they know how to work a heater?” Clarke says, chuckling to herself. Lexa takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring.

“Yes,” she replies, not giving into the humor.

“Do you only respond with one word answers?” Clarke says, again, with a laugh. Lexa takes a deep breath. It’s been less than a minute and already, the new girl is annoying her more than anybody else she’s worked with in the past nine years.

“Depends,” Lexa replies. She feels a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. 

“On?” Clarke pushes.

“If the conversation is of interest,” Lexa retorts. There’s the blow of a whistle from the front of the studio, ending their conversation but Lexa sees Clarke smiling from behind her in the mirror. Lexa looks down at her feet, hiding a small smile of her own.

-

Clarke’s been here for a week and Lexa’s attempted to learn next to nothing about the newest addition. However, that’s been proving to be close to impossible. She’s loud, she’s crass, and she’s incredibly unprofessional.

More than that, she’s a remarkable dancer. Against Lexa’s better judgment, she googled her. She’d gotten rave reviews from publications all over California. A few very respected critics called her, ‘the best natural talent dance has seen in years’.

Lexa’s not jealous - really she isn’t. She’s comfortable in her skills and her talent level. So she’s not jealous. Really.

She’s made friends with Harper and Octavia, though that’s not stopped her from attempting to converse with Lexa. Lexa’s kept her answers to five words or less when possible, hoping that Clarke will get the hint that she really, really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to talk to her.

(She doesn’t.)

They’re in a meeting, in the opera house because that’s where Marcus likes to make announcements, and Lexa’s seated in the middle of a row. She has her bag on her lap and her legs crossed.

Clarke slides in, sitting right next her. Lexa sighs. “Clarke, there’s a whole row,” Lexa says plainly. Clarke looks up and down the otherwise empty row.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” She teases and Lexa scowls. Clarke bumps Lexa’s shoulder with her own. “Hey, lighten up, Woods. It doesn’t hurt to crack a smile sometimes,” Clarke continues.

Lexa’s jaw just clenches and she’s fairly certain she’s never grinded her teeth so often before meeting Clarke Griffin.

“It wouldn’t have hurt you to pick any other seat in this auditorium,” Lexa fires back and Clarke’s eyes widen. For a moment she looks something like hurt but then mirth fills her eyes.

“And pass up an opportunity to talk to little Miss. Sunshine? No way,” Clarke replies and Lexa makes sure her next breath is loud and filled with annoyance. She wonders if Clarke will ever get the hint that she simply does not want to speak to her. She doubts it.

Luckily, she’s saved from any more of Clarke’s running commentary when Marcus climbs onto the stage. “I know you all recognize this. Our wonderful, wonderful stage here at the Boston Opera House. And I know you’re all eager to know what the next production that will be featured on this very stage will be,” and that catches Lexa’s attention. Her back straightens and she leans forward. Her palms even begin to go sweaty. Marcus is smiling and Indra steps forward from her position behind him.

“For our first show of the new year, we’re trying something new,” Indra says with a smirk. She looks back at Marcus, who raises his eyebrows and Lexa’s heart rate increases. A newer, more contemporary ballet? Something original? Lexa’s quite anxious to know what new thing they could possibly be introducing. “Cinderella. Tried and true, quite the classic, especially here in Boston,” Indra continues and Lexa bites on her lip. Well, that’s not that creative. She danced in Cinderella as a child. “We all know the story. An unwed prince. Pushy parents. A glass slipper and a fairytale happy ending,” Indra summarizes and Lexa really just wishes she would get on with it. “For our first ballet of the season, we’re turning that fairy tale on its head. It’s going to be darker, it’s going to be grittier, it’s going to be better than anyone has ever seen it. More important than all of that, and this is the biggest surprise of them all, it will feature two female leads,” Indra stops and the gasps from the audience are audible from every area in the theatre. Lexa leans forward even further. Two female leads? That’s  _ two  _ chances for her to land a lead. She feels herself smiling. Then, there’s a tickle of someone else’s breath against her neck.

“I knew you could smile,” Clarke whispers into her ear and Lexa whips around to see Clarke leaning back into her seat, a smirk on her face. Lexa’s face flushes before she has the chance to suppress it. She doesn’t bother responding to Clarke. It’s simply not worth it. She tunes her attention back to the stage, where Indra is giving specific details about auditions.

“Auditions will begin in a fortnight. We’ll start teaching combinations in company class on Monday. Now get some rest, see you all then,” Indra says dismissing them with a wave of her hand. Lexa leans back in her seat, already fantasizing about how she would look dancing the lead of Cinderella. A few moments later though, Clarke breaks into her fantasy, with more unnecessary questioning.

“You going to go for everyone’s favorite dirty princess?” Clarke asks, her annoying smirk having grown about twice its normal size. Lexa rolls her eyes. She stands.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I will be,” Lexa replies, lifting her chin and clutching the strap of her bag with both hands. Lexa didn’t know it was possible but Clarke’s smirk grows even more. She stands then as well. She raises an eyebrow.

“Good. I’m going for the prince. Well, princess. I hope you get it,” Clarke says with a wink before she turns and walks out of the row. Lexa stares at her retreating back.

Well, that was interesting.

-

The combinations are more difficult than Lexa had initially anticipated. Not all of the steps are the same as they were when she was thirteen and tried to memorize them from a youtube video she’d found. They were more complex and much more difficult. Lexa wears a leotard with an open back, something that shows off the tattoos she normally keeps hidden, but the owners of the building had actually discovered the heat and cranked it. She was sweating, bits of hair are flattened against her forehead with sweat. She’s fairly certain the nail on big toe is ready to fall off and the amount of time that she’s spending en pointe wasn’t going to help prolong that process.

Behind her, Clarke is laughing with Harper and Octavia. She’s taken to wearing crop tops to every rehearsal and Lexa was quite sure Marcus was too busy enjoying the view to remember his own dress code. Her midriff is constantly exposed, some days more than others, and she doesn’t bother to wear a leotard. Lexa wonders how she even managed to land one professional gig, let alone two. Lexa is at the barre, not wanting to waste time actually taking a break, and Clarke approaches from her right. “They give us ten minutes to drink water and regain use of our limbs, not to tire ourselves out more, you know that right?” Clarke says and Lexa glares.

“What I do with my time is none of your business,” Lexa says stiffly. Clarke puts an elbow on the barre and leans into it. She tilts her head up toward Lexa.

“You’re tough,” Clarke comments and Lexa’s eyes cloud over momentarily in confusion. “Stronger than porcelain,” Clarke continues and Lexa wishes she would stop talking nonsense and just leave her alone. “But I’ll crack you,” she finishes, straightening up. She reaches over and pulls the strap of her leotard up and lets it go. It snaps back against her skin and Lexa’s nostrils flare. “I like this. You should wear it more often,” Clarke says before turning around and walking back to Octavia, who had been watching them very intently with interested eyes. Before she tunes out, she hears Octavia murmur,

“You’re wasting your time with her.”

She doesn’t bother listening to Clarke’s reply. She knows what this is - Clarke knows she can get a reaction out of Lexa quite easily. Why wouldn’t she use that as a competitive advantage? Lexa knows that she would.

They’re back doing combinations soon and after a few more work throughs of the moves, Indra pauses the music. “We want to practice partnering. Ladies, grab a partner,” she says, clapping her hands. Lexa feels her stomach drop. Partnering with boys was easy, she had a trusted companion that she always gravitated towards. Gus knew how her body moved and vice versa. They’d always had an understanding. During partnering exercises, they would work together. But Lexa doesn’t really know any of these girls. She stands awkwardly, silently hoping for an awkward number of girls so she may be left alone, but she’s unlucky in that.

It ought not to surprise her that the only other person left was Clarke. She supposes it wasn’t accidental. Lexa puts her hands on her hips as Clarke looks at her from across the room with a ‘what can you do?’ look on her face. Realizing that there’s no way she’d be able to get away with  _ not  _ partnering with Clarke, she gestures for Clarke to come toward her with a nod of her head. Clarke stands behind her and as Lexa watches Indra demonstrate the moves, Lexa’s stomach turns. Once the demonstration was finished, Indra breaks down the moves individually. Lexa feels Clarke’s hands rest on her hips. There’s a shock sent through her body and she jumps, just slightly. “Careful there jack rabbit,” Clarke whispers and a shiver goes down her spine.

As they move through the combination, Clarke’s hands barely leave her hips, even when they pause. Hell, by the end of practice, it feels like Clarke’s hands have become a part of her. So much so that she misses the feel of them when she finally does let go, the cold air hitting her.

She’s much too exhausted to change, so she just pulls her sweatpants over her tights. Her loose purple v-neck hangs from her form as she leans down to pull on her boots. She’s one of the last few stragglers still in the room and she pulls the elastic from her hair, shaking it out. “Huh, so you do let your hair down sometimes then?” Comes a voice from the opposite end of the room. Lexa sighs.

“Don’t you need to leave, Clarke?” Lexa asks, turning toward her. She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She shrugs.

“I got nothing but time,” Clarke says. “I just wanted to say good practice,” she continues and Lexa nods stiffly.

“I see,” Lexa purses her lips. “Well now you’ve done that,” Lexa finishes and she begins to walk toward the door. She pushes past Clarke, brushing against her just a little. She’s just out the door when Clarke yells to her.

“I’m not a terrible person, you know that right?” Clarke asks and Lexa turns around.

“I never said that you were, Clarke,” Lexa says, confused. She’s not entirely sure where this interaction is going.

“I mean, you act like I’m about to give you the bubonic plague every time I talk to you so I just wanted to clarify that I’m neither diseased nor going to kill you,” Clarke says, a bitter tone to her voice.

Lexa bites her lip and suddenly, she feels quite bad for the dismissive way she had been treating Clarke since they met. She’d just never thought it bothered her. “I apologize,” Lexa says awkwardly because she doesn’t know what else to say. This is just the way that she is. She’s never been friendly. She’s never been the kind of girl that people  _ wanted  _ to be friends with.

“I’ve got thick skin,” Clarke says with a shrug. “But I would like it if we could be friends, Lexa,” Clarke continues, walking toward her. “Because chances are, we’re going to be the leads of this thing. And it’s going to be pretty miserable if you keep hating me,” Clarke speaks as she continues to move closer and closer to Lexa. Lexa swallows, hoping the sudden dryness in her throat is temporary.

“I don’t hate you, Clarke,” Lexa says softly because that’s the only part of what Clarke said that she could focus on. Clarke smiles.

“Good. I don’t hate you either, for the record,” Clarke says with a smile. “Walk me out?” Clarke enthusiastically suggests and Lexa smiles. She nods.

“Sure,” she replies and Clarke grins. They start to move toward the exit, exchanging small talk. They stand outside of the doors of the studio and Lexa gestures with her head toward the path she needs to take. “I’m this way,” Lexa says. Clarke laughs and points to the sidewalk running the opposite way.

“And I’m this way. See you tomorrow?” Clarke says and Lexa nods.

Maybe being Clarke's friend wouldn't be so bad.

-

Lexa finds that partnering with Clarke becomes much easier now that she’s not filled with contempt when she comes near her. That feeling especially fades when she realizes that Clarke had never been trying to get a rise out of her, she'd simply been trying to be her friend. Clarke's methods of doing that were just quite different than Lexa's. 

Clarke's flirtatious. The way she treated Lexa? Was the way she treated everyone else.

Even her unconventional wardrobe choices were beginning to grow on her, though she didn't hesitate to tell her exactly what she thought. Clarke, of course, just laughed it off, something that  _ did  _ cause a bit of aggravation to spring into her stomach. The feeling passed quickly though because auditions are that day and she doesn't have room inside of her to be anything but nervous.

Before she goes on stage, Clarke grabs her hand and squeezes it. “You're going to do great,” she says confidently and Lexa is shocked by the fact that it actually comforts her. Clarke isn't until after her and Lexa has every intention of being in the velvet seats during it. She just has to get through her piece first.

She nods to Marcus and Indra before the music starts and she gets into position. She knows this combination. She's drilled it over and over again. At home, in the studio, both before and after class, and she  _ knows  _ it. Her eyes are clenched tightly shut and as the music starts, she opens them, letting the anxiety go as best as she can. She focuses on each step, each movement, each pirouette. She makes sure she hits all of her marks with precision. She ensures that her lines are clean and there are no flaws in her technique.

There’s a polite smattering of applause from the audience when she finishes though one set of hands is clearly louder than the rest. There’s a ‘whoop’ from the left section of seats and Lexa looks out into the crowd to see Clarke on her feet, clapping as if her life depended on it. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning if she tried.

She bows her heat toward Marcus and Indra and makes her way off the stage. Clarke meets her by the door. She’s smiling brightly and she puts both of her hands on Lexa’s shoulders. “You were incredible,” Clarke says and Lexa looks down, blushing.

“I did my best to ensure my technique was well executed,” Lexa replies and Clarke shakes her head. She looks as if she wants to say something more but she doesn’t. Instead, she squeezes Lexa’s shoulders.

“They’d be idiots not to give it to you,” Clarke says, confidence holding up her tone.

“Smarter people have done stupider things,” Lexa quips and Clarke shakes her head.

“You got it in the bag, Woods. You going to watch while I slam dunk this?” Clarke asks and Lexa chuckles.

“Of course,” Lexa responds and Clarke’s hands are off of her shoulders now. Lexa, half because she’s so giddy she made through the auditions without falling and half because it feels like the right thing to do in the moment, leans across and gives Clarke a short kiss on the cheek. “Break a leg,” she murmurs before pushing past her and continuing into the theatre, her cheeks bright red.

She settles into a seat, most of the auditorium empty now. Clarke is one of the last dancers to go but she comes onto the stage, a cut up t shirt hanging off of her shoulders and bright purple shorts that she can see all the way from the back. She ought to have known that even for an audition, Clarke wouldn’t adhere to the dress code. Her music starts and it’s nothing like her own audition. She’d followed the choreography  _ strictly _ . There was a reason this ballet was so timeless. It’s because nobody ever changed the steps! But Clarke’s movements are fluid and graceful and all of her lines perfect. Her technique is, while unique, perhaps some of the best she’s ever seen. She manages to make the interpretation gripping and individual, while still showcasing the very best of her skill. And Lexa’s enthralled. Clarke is captivatingly beautiful on stage and the moment she strikes her final pose, Lexa is left wanting more.

She stands without even thinking about it. Her hands start to burn from how hard she’s clapping and Clarke catches her eye from the stage. She winks as she bows and Lexa’s grin just continues to grow.

As she walks off stage, Lexa’s stomach flips.

Well that’s not good.

-

She waits for Clarke outside of the dressing room. She’s already changed, a loose red sweatshirt hanging from her torso, and black jeans she’d bought herself for Christmas but never given herself the opportunity to wear. The only reason she’d bought them was because the saleswoman told her that they made her butt look amazing and frankly, Lexa’s never been one to turn down anything after a compliment like that. She makes comission  _ quite  _ easy.

The door to the dressing room pushes open and Clarke seems quite surprised to see that Lexa was waiting for her. “Hey,” she says, confused though not unhappy.

“I wanted to tell you how wonderful you were this afternoon. I’ve never seen an interpretation be so vastly different but keep the integral element of feeling attached,” Lexa nearly gushes.

“I think that’s the most amount of words you’ve spoken consecutively since I’ve met you,” Clarke comments and Lexa feels herself blush. She couldn’t help it. Talent is talent, and she knows it when she sees it.

“I’m capable of speaking in more than short sentences, Clarke,” Lexa amusedly replies. Clarke laughs.

“Good. Keep it up,” she says and then she fixes Lexa with a stare that she can’t quite put a name to. There’s something like indecision in her eyes for a moment and then she nods shortly to herself. “Want to celebrate?” Clarke asks and Lexa furrows her brow.

“There’s nothing to celebrate yet. We won’t know our roles until next week,” Lexa states and Clarke shakes her head at her, something Lexa is beginning to realize is quite a common occurrence.

“There’s always something to celebrate. We finished auditions. Isn’t that enough to warrant a drink?” Clarke postulates and Lexa can’t quite think of any reason to disagree.

“I suppose you’re right,” Lexa says and Clarke seems surprised. “What? Didn’t expect me to agree that easily?” Lexa teases and Clarke shakes her head.

“No, I didn’t. I thought it would take at least another five minutes of convincing and me offering to buy the shots,”  Clarke replies and Lexa laughs.

“You can still buy the shots,” Lexa suggests.

“Maybe we can go dutch?” Clarke counters, beginning to lead them toward the exit. As Lexa pushes the door open, a rush of cold hitting her face, she thinks that she’s quite grateful that she stopped treating Clarke like a leper. It’s been a long time since she’s had a real friend, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.

It felt good.

-

Lexa is quite unfamiliar with the bar scene but Clarke seems to know her way around so Lexa lets her take the lead. They end up at a pub, apparently somewhere where Clarke can get a decent grilled cheese because she’s starving, with buy one get one pitchers of beer. They’re settled into a corner booth, one that’s quite secluded, and Clarke pours them both a beer. “I can’t believe you’ve never had their grilled cheese. It’s easily the best I’ve ever tasted,” Clarke boasts and Lexa shrugs.

“I don’t often eat out,” Lexa explains. She’s not really had the occasion to. It would be strange if she went out on a Friday evening and asked for a table for one. At least it’s not strange if she’s alone in her apartment, large glass of wine in hand.

“Trust me, you’re going to love it,” Clarke assures and Lexa can’t help but trust her. It’s strange because she’s spent so many years isolated. Keeping her distance from people was easy. It was what she knew. For a long time, she thought her social abilities were….broken. That she would never have an actual, functioning friendship again. But Clarke is proving her wrong. And for once, she was quite glad. There’s something comforting about knowing you’re not an emotionless robot.

Soon, two plates of very greasy food are placed in front of them. Clarke digs right in and she encourages Lexa to do the same. “Come on, you’ve gotta get it while the cheese is still gooey,” Clarke urges her on and Lexa figures there really isn’t a proper way to do this. She takes one half in both of her hands and bites into it, the cheese nearly burning her mouth. It is quite delicious.

“It  _ is  _ good,” Lexa concedes and Clarke throws an arm up in the air, a celebration of a very minor victory in Lexa’s opinion.

“I knew you’d like it. There’s an actual twenty something in there, I know it,” Clarke says, poking her on the shoulder with her fork.

They finish their meals and the two pitchers of beer that they started with empty very quickly. Lexa feels herself getting something close to drunk. She’s leaning against Clarke, laughing into her shoulder. “You’re not so good at holding your alcohol, are you?” Clarke asks, her laughter still coloring her words.

“I don’t drink very much, I don’t have a high tolerance,” Lexa admits. A familiar song begins to play and Clarke perks up.

“I love this song. Want to dance?” She asks and Lexa furrows her brow.

“I’ve just spent all day dancing,” she replies, confused as to why Clarke would want to dance even  _ more _ . Clarke shakes her head.

“This is a different kind of dancing, Lexa,” Clarke says excitedly and she moves out of the booth, grabbing Lexa’s hand and pulling her out onto a dance floor, where very few people are. Clarke begins to move her hips to the beat of the song and Lexa’s eyes widen. Clarke looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got,” Clarke almost challenges and Lexa’s just drunk enough to try.

It’s awkward at first. She feels strange moving like this, so freely, but it is quite liberating not to have to stick to a structure. There aren’t many other people dancing but Lexa barely even notices.

She’s not sure how it happens, but Clarke ends up behind her, hands on her hips. Lexa’s butt is pressed against Clarke’s pelvis and they’re moving to the music together. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Clarke, but she doesn’t even feel tempted to stop. This feels good. She hasn’t felt good in a long time. Lexa moves her hands down to rest on top of Clarke’s as they continue to move together. She barely realizes when she pries apart Clarke’s fingers to lace hers in between them.

Clarke’s head is resting in the crook of her neck and she swears she feels featherlight kisses being pressed to her neck. Lexa throws her head back, giving into the feeling of Clarke’s hands on her body.

There’s a twinge between her legs and she can feel herself getting wet. But she and Clarke, they weren’t. Well. Like that. They were friends. Friends did this right?

Clarke’s grip tightens on her hands and now there’s no mistaking it - she’s definitely kissing her neck. She should stop her, she doesn’t want any hickeys to be visible, but her lips feel so good against the sensitive skin of her neck and frankly, she doesn’t want it to stop. Clarke feels good. Lexa turns her head slightly toward Clarke, intending to give her more space to kiss. Her mouth starts to travel up her jaw and she can’t help it - she lets out a small moan. Clarke pauses. She brings her mouth close to Lexa’s ear. “I need you to tell me to stop,” she whispers and Lexa bites her lip. She should. She really should. But she doesn’t want her to. Lexa turns her head even further.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Lexa replies and she can barely see Clarke’s smile in the dark of the room but she knows it’s there as Clarke’s lips come crashing onto hers.

She sees fireworks. She always thought that was a myth but as Clarke’s lips move against her own, there’s explosions behind her eyes. It’s the best first kiss Lexa has ever had. It doesn’t even register to her, now or when Clarke is pulling her into her apartment and pulling off those jeans that made her ass look so good, that maybe, just maybe, they shouldn’t be doing this.

-

Lexa wakes the next morning with a pounding headache and sheets around her hips that are certainly not her own. Slowly, she blinks sleep from her eyes and takes in her surroundings. A messy bedroom, artwork strewn about almost everywhere, and a pair of purple spanks that look quite familiar.

Oh no.

Lexa’s head whips around and there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach. Clarke is sleeping next to her, her bare back exposed and her blonde hair resting on her shoulders. Bits and pieces of the night previous begin to come back to her and a very familiar feeling sinks into her gut. Regret.

As quietly as she can, she slips out of bed and puts her clothes back on. It’s rude to do this, to sneak out, but she’s not quite in the mood to hear Clarke say that what they had done was a mistake and they shouldn’t have done it. She just. Isn’t. She pauses in the doorway of Clarke’s bedroom, turning her head back to glance at Clarke’s sleeping form. Lexa swears there’s a smile on her face.

She turns around before she’s tempted to stay. And she can’t do that. Because there’s nothing between them. They were barely even friends who made a mistake. She walks out of the apartment slowly and she thinks to herself, that her friendship with Clarke was nice while it lasted but after this? There’s no possible way it could continue.

-

She’s early on Monday morning, as she always was, and her head ought to be filled with thoughts of the announcement of roles, but instead she’s thinking about Clarke. She hasn’t stopped thinking about Clarke since Saturday morning and she really wishes that she could. She’s severed ties with friends before, quite amicably, but she isn’t sure how Clarke will react.

She’s practicing the combination she had used in her audition when the door to the studio opens. Lexa glances at the clock. It’s only 7:30. Nobody arrives before 7:45. Lexa turns toward the door and her heart nearly stops when she sees Clarke in the doorway. She notices that Lexa’s stopped dancing and she slowly claps her hands. “Still looks good,” Clarke says and Lexa nods in thanks. The silence between them becomes awkward very fast. “Guess we should talk about the elephant in the room?” Clarke says, her voice catching just slightly. Lexa purses her lips though it’s quickly followed by a nod. “I was going to call but I realized that you never gave me your number,” Clarke says with an awkward laugh. She pauses for a moment and Lexa doesn’t know if she should say something but then Clarke fills the silence. “We fucked,” Clarke states simply and Lexa has to cringe at the vulgarity of the statement.

“If you must put it that way, yes. We did,” Lexa comments and Clarke starts to take a few steps forward and Lexa can’t help it, she moves backward. Clarke’s brow furrows and there’s hurt on her face now, there’s no mistaking it.

“What? Do you think I’m going to jump you right here, right now?” Clarke shoots at her, quite hostilely and Lexa flinches. “You were the one who kissed me. You were the one who begged me to fuck you,” Clarke says, continuing to step closer. And she isn’t lying. Lexa had wanted it. More than she’d ever wanted anything. Hell, even now as Clarke is walking towards her, she feels a rush of attraction. “Why’d you leave?” Clarke asks, lowering her voice. Lexa straightens her back.

“It was a mistake, Clarke. I didn’t intend on discussing it with you while the two of us were both stark naked,” Lexa pauses. “It didn’t mean anything, Clarke,” and if it’s possible, Clarke’s face falls even more.

“Fuck you,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “You know, I thought there was something resembling a person with feelings inside of you, but you actually are just an emotionless bitch,” Clarke spits. Luckily, or something like it, the door opens and others begin to flood in. Nobody seems to notice that Clarke and Lexa are still staring at each other, neither of them having moved from their spots, eyes still glued to each other.

Lexa’s the first to break eye contact. There’s a bad feeling in her stomach, like she’d eaten bad yogurt, and she can’t shake it.

She’s off the entire class. She’s unfocused and Indra has to correct her multiple times on her technique, something she is always very careful to keep perfect. And every time she looks at Clarke, that bad feeling returns to her stomach.

For once, Lexa is thankful for the day to finish. However, there is still an announcement to be made and the dancers are all gathered on the floor in front of Marcus and Indra, who hold the cast list in their hands. Lexa’s heart rate increases and her palms begin to sweat. She tells herself that she deserves it - truly, nine years in the company and not a single leading role? She’s more than earned it. That doesn’t stop her from being nervous. “I know you’ve all been anxiously waiting for this all day so I’m not going to prolong it anymore. The dancer who will be our Cinderella is,” he pauses looking down at the paper in front of him. He looks up with a smile. “Lexa Woods,” and Lexa has to blink a few times to make sure this is real before she stands up. There’s a wide smile on her face when she shakes Marcus’s hand. “Stay up here, Lexa. I want to see my two leds next to each other,” he tells her and she does as she’s asked. She steps back behind him, next to Indra who gives her a small smile.

“Congratulations,” she says and Lexa nods her thanks.

“And the girl who will be playing our lovesick princess is, drumroll please,” he says and there’s a sound of people’s hands hitting the floor, “Clarke Griffin!” He exclaims and the room goes rather quiet for a moment as Clarke heads to the front of the room from her spot near the back. She shakes Marcus’s hand and smiles at the people still seated. Marcus gestures to Lexa to step forward and she does. Lexa thinks that her palms are even sweatier now than they were previously and she  _ knew _ Clarke was going to get it - she had easily been the best but now? Now they’re stuck together for months of rehearsals. And Lexa had just insulted her and told her that sleeping together had been a mistake. There’s no way this was going to go well. And based on the smirk on Clarke’s face that Lexa can only categorize as evil, Clarke doesn’t intend on making this easy for her.

-

She must be dying.

Her heart has been beating at an abnormally fast pace the entire practice and she knows it’s not from exertion. Each time Clarke touched her, all she could picture was Friday night and all the places her hands had been then. She’s flushed and she’s lucky the class is difficult that day so she can blame it on an overheating body, not an overactive brain. She does her best to avoid Clarke’s eyes but it’s hard when she looks in the mirror and all she can see is the way Clarke’s looking at her. It’s nearly indecipherable. Sometimes, Lexa swears she’s staring at her with hurt and others, contempt. Sometimes a little bit of both. The only thing she knows for sure is that the skin underneath her leotard burns when Clarke touches her and that cannot be a normal reaction.

So she must be dying.

She decides to stay late tonight, telling Marcus not to lock up. He shakes his head at her. “I appreciate your dedication Lexa but take a night off once and awhile,” he tells her and she humors him, saying she will, but both of them know she’s lying. Now that she’s got a lead role, she won’t rest until the performances are done.

She sits in the corner, listening to the score and imagining the movements, while she waits for the room to clear. Her head is leaned against the wall and her eyes are shut. She only opens her eyes when she presumes the room will have emptied. To her surprise, and discontent, Clarke is sitting against the wall opposite of her, staring at the beds of her nails. “Why are you still here, Clarke?” Lexa asks and Clarke doesn’t look up from her nail beds when she responds,

“Waiting for you,” she says quite simply, as if that fact were as plain as day. Lexa’s back straightens.

“I’ve said everything I needed to say to you,” Lexa replies and she tries to coat her voice in disdain but she isn’t sure it works.

“Relax, I want to talk about the dance,” Clarke says and she manages to capture disdain in her tone quite perfectly. Lexa doesn’t say anything. Clarke rolls her eyes. “If you want to be a child about what happened between us, that’s fine. I don’t have time to babysit a closet case who’s uncomfortable with her own desire,” Clarke spits at her and Lexa can’t help but flinch. She’s  _ not  _ a closet case. And how dare Clarke insinuate that she is? She had no right. “But the fact of it is, we’re the leads. You’re going to have to tolerate me. If you want to forget we fucked, you can do that. But for the love of everything holy, please pull the barre from your ass and try and treat me like a human,” Clarke finishes and she doesn’t wait for Lexa to respond before standing up and walking out of the room.

Lexa doesn’t know how long she stares at the doorway that Clarke had just passed through, waiting for her brain to catch up with her. She’s felt so many things today, she might have gotten emotional whiplash.

There’s an ache in her chest and she can’t identify why. All she knows is that the longer she stares at the empty doorway, the worse it gets.

-

They’re fighting.

Literally red in the face, screaming at each other, fighting.

“If you would stop flinching every time I tried to get near you, we wouldn’t be having this problem!” Clarke yells and Lexa’s nostrils flare.

“If you knew where to put your hands, I wouldn’t flinch!” Lexa shoots back, in a voice that’s as close to a scream as she’s willing to go.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Clarke’s eyes narrow as she looks at her. “You’re the most uptight, prissy bitch I’ve ever met,” She spits and Lexa fixes her with a glare.

“Like that’s supposed to insult me? Clarke you overestimate the value of your words,” Lexa sneers and Clarke’s eyes widen, her hands rising to her hair.

“I can’t do this. I can’t fucking work with you,” she mutters. She turns to face the wall, her hands buried in her hair.

“As if you were my first choice in partner,” Lexa says, quite unnecessarily. Clarke sneers at her.

“That’s not what you said two weeks ago,” Clarke reminds and Lexa has to count to three otherwise she fears she might explode.

“I would prefer it if you stopped reminding me that particular error in judgment,” Lexa murmurs and Clarke’s hands finally drop from her head and she spins back around.

“Why? You don’t want to remember how many times you made me come?” Clarke, again quite vulgarly, says. Lexa feels her back stiffen and her shoulders tense. Clarke laughs. “God, it was just sex! It felt good and I can’t understand why you need to pretend it didn’t happen,” Clarke shakes her head. “I’m taking a break,” she mutters and quickly, she walks out of the door.

Lexa takes a deep breath and lets the tension out of her shoulders. It’s been like this for the past two weeks. Each time they’re alone, they’re at each other’s throats. Clarke thinks she’s too uptight and Lexa thinks Clarke’s too loose. It feels like there’s no common ground between them. And then there’s the fact that Clarke keeps throwing sex back in her face. She wanted to forget it (because if she could forget it then maybe her heart would stop racing when she looked at her) but that’s proving to be impossible with Clarke reminding her of it at any given opportunity. It’s lucky they’re by themselves. They’ve been practicing for an hour and Lexa doesn’t know how much longer she can be here. She’s frustrated and she’s still not managed to calm her racing heart.

Clarke comes back into the room, her face still red, but no longer looking angry. “One more time,” she says and Lexa doesn’t respond. She just gets into position. She stands in front of the mirror and Clarke comes up behind her. Her hands on her hips, similar to the way they had been that night, and Lexa feels the same rush of attraction flow through her that she did then. She tries to push it down, to pretend it’s not there, but Clarke’s grip is tight and impossible to ignore. She feels her muscles tense. “Relax,” Clarke whispers in her ear and there’s a chill that goes down her spine. She’s surprised when she feels her shoulders loosen. “Don’t think so much, Lexa,” Clarke continues and Lexa takes a deep breath.

She lets Clarke lead her this time, and it’s not intentional, but there’s something different about the way they move together this run through. They play off of each other perfectly and when they finish, Lexa feels better than she’s felt in two weeks. Clarke is smirking. “See what happens when you chill out?” Clarke says, walking toward her things. She picks them up and Lexa is still standing in the middle of the room. She’s closed her eyes, in an attempt to stop the room from spinning, but it’s barely working. “You just have to trust yourself. Let your body do the work,” Clarke continues with a shrug. “See you tomorrow, ragdoll,” Clarke says with a smirk.

Lexa tries quite hard to convince herself that she’s dizzy because of the heat and not because of the way Clarke spoke to her.

-

Things are different after that night. They don’t stop fighting, oh no, but they move together better than they had before. Lexa does her best to stop thinking.

They’re practicing late again tonight and Lexa’s exhausted. Clarke is in the corner, texting someone quite furiously. “Could you possibly wait until we’re finished?” Lexa interrupts her and she looks up, glaring.

“Just because you don’t have any friends who care about you doesn’t mean I do,” Clarke mutters and Lexa rolls her eyes.

“It’s you who once wanted to be my friend, Clarke,” Lexa reminds and she doesn’t know why she does. It’s stupid because they were friends for less than a week before it fell apart. There’s part of herself that misses it, the easy banter between the two of them, but they were just too different. It would never work.

“Waste of my time,” Clarke murmurs and Lexa’s fists clench. She doesn’t respond, she doesn’t know what to say, because it  _ hurts  _ this time. Her words feel like knives in her chest and a knot forms in her stomach. She turns around, fearing that if she looks at Clarke for any longer she might start to cry. Lord only knows why.

A few moments later, Clarke is still sitting and Lexa hears her giggle. There’s a jolt in her then. “Are you quite finished?” Lexa bites. Clarke bites her lip, glancing down at her phone once more. Then she nods.

They go through the bits they’ve been struggling with, including a few lifts that Lexa is mostly terrified of, and call it quits for the night. Clarke glances at the time. “Shit,” she mutters. Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Lexa asks. Clarke is quickly throwing her things in a bag.

“I have a date and I’m late,” Clarke says, not even bothering to look at Lexa when she says it. Lexa feels gobsmacked. The knot in her stomach grows and she feels like she’s going to throw up. She has a date. Clarke. Has a date. With someone who isn’t her. Her fists clench and her fingernails dig into her palm. She feels angry.

And as Clarke moves out the door with a dismissive wave, Lexa realizes exactly what the feeling in her stomach means.

She’s jealous.

She doesn’t want Clarke on a date with anybody else because she wants Clarke on a date with her.

Fucking shit.

-

Lexa doesn’t know how to properly deal with the newly acquired information that she’s very jealous that Clarke is interested in someone else. She goes home that night and she watches Fast and Furious and she tries to keep her mind off of Clarke, or what she might be doing, but it doesn’t work. She just keeps refreshing her instagram feed to see if Clarke posted anything that would let her know if things were going well. Her nerves won’t calm down and the knot in her stomach won’t undo itself because she keeps thinking about Clarke dancing on someone else like she had danced on her. She thinks of the way Clarke moved against her and there’s a strange mixture of desire and anger in her.

She has a glass of wine to calm herself down. And then another. And then another.

Soon, she’s quite drunk and scrolling through Clarke’s facebook.

She’s never been the type to ‘stalk’ social media, as people call it, but for some reason she feels as though she needs to feed the monster inside of her instead of calming it down. There are pictures from Clarke in Anaheim, wearing her classic crop tops, on top of some boys shoulders. And in someone’s pool wearing a bikini that leaves very little to Lexa’s imagination, which had already been running quite rampant. 

The more she looks, the more she  _ wishes  _ she were in any of these.

That she wasn’t so fucking stubborn so she could be part of her life.

-

Lexa wakes the next morning with a terrible headache and she vomits into the garbage can that sits underneath her nightstand before she has a chance to attempt to process anything. Her memory is quick to come back to her and she recalls going through all of Clarke’s social media, the raging jealousy that coursed through her veins as she saw other that made Clarke smile in a way she was never able to.

She then remembers the reason she had spent so much of her evening drinking. Clarke had been on a date. And her stomach sinks even further when she realizes that she’s likely to hear about it today. She contemplates the merits of calling in sick. She’s never done so, not once in all nine years with the company, and maybe she deserves a day off. 

But she would be running from the issue. Not facing it. And Lexa can face things, she can. She’s not a child and she can deal with her jealousy. It’s unfounded anyway. She and Clarke had never been anything. Hell, they were barely more than enemies. Lexa had no  _ right  _ to be jealous.

(And she repeats that to herself over and over again and hopes that eventually, the repetition may make the feeling disappear.)

She doesn’t get to the studio early. In fact, she slips in the classroom with a just a few minutes to spare. She tries not to look for Clarke immediately. She fails. Her eyes are drawn to her. And she’s standing with another blonde that Lexa recognizes as Niylah, a member of the corps de ballet. Clarke’s arm is around her waist and she’s looking up at her with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

Lexa’s stomach lurches. She feels like she’s about to vomit, and not because of a hangover this time. She wants to stop looking, she really does, but she can’t. Her eyes are fixated on the hand on Niylah’s waist. The feeling surges through her body, hits every nerve ending, and makes her feel as if she wants to explode. Her jaw is clenched and she knows that she’s glaring but she can’t help it.

Clarke finally notices that she’s staring and the only thing she does is pull Niylah closer to her and lean up to give her a kiss on the cheek. Lexa takes a deep breath, trying to prevent the lump in her throat from causing any tears. She finally rips her eyes away from them and she turns around. No. She has other, more important things to focus on than Clarke Griffin. She won’t let her ruin this. She can handle it.

She puts all of her energy into the dance today. She doesn’t once make eye contact with Clarke. She stares out the window during breaks and makes sure that headphones are in her ears at all times, showing that she does not want to be disturbed.

She wants to practice alone today so she doesn’t ask Clarke to stay behind. However, Clarke isn’t interested in accommodating that desire. She lingers as those around her filter out. Lexa’s stomach turns when Niylah gives her a kiss goodbye. Lexa stands with her arms folded across her chest when they’re finally alone. “I don’t intend to practice with you today, Clarke,” Lexa comments. Apparently staying pleasant wasn’t her intention either. Clarke shakes her head.

“Alright. I’m not going to argue with you, Lexa,” Clarke says, perhaps even dejectedly. She turns to leave and Lexa finds herself wishing that Clarke put up more of a fight. She’s not used to Clarke giving in quite so easily. Not with her.

“How was your date?” Lexa asks before Clarke crosses the threshold of the door. Lexa hopes the jealousy doesn’t seep into her voice because her gut tightened when she asked. Clarke pauses. She turns around, smiling.

“It was nice. Niylah’s nice,” Clarke says and Lexa feels her heart drop into her butt.

“That’s all?” Lexa pushes and Clarke laughs.

“What else? Sometimes that’s all people are looking for, Lexa,” Clarke explains and she sounds tired.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re the type to settle for ‘nice’. I thought you’d want,” and Lexa pauses, her mind going back to the night they spent together, “Fireworks,” she completes and Clarke’s lips purse. Lexa isn’t sure if it’s the lighting but she swears she sees Clarke’s eyes begin to shine with tears.

“I don’t think you have any right to weigh in on what I want,” Clarke replies and that stings.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts and she shakes her head.

“No, you had a shot. You told me it didn’t mean anything so you don’t get to judge my relationship and deem it inadequate,” Clarke says, her voice rising. “God, I don’t know what to expect with you. One day you’re screaming at me and the next you look like a sad puppy when I decide that I don’t want to feel hurt over you anymore,” Clarke says and Lexa’s eyes widen. No. That didn’t make sense. You had to care for someone for them to be able to hurt you. And there’s no way that Clarke cared about her. The surprise must be easily read on her face because Clarke chuckles. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know. Do you think I take any Jane Doe to my favorite place in the city? I liked you, Lexa, and you fucked me over,” Clarke says and Lexa doesn’t even know how to process this. Clarke liked her.

“Past tense,” Lexa mutters.

“What?” Clarke asks and Lexa tilts her chin up now.

“Past tense,” she repeats, louder and Clarke looks at her with broken eyes.

“What about it?” Clarke questions, clearly evading the question.

“Do you still have feelings for me or not, Clarke?” Lexa rephrases, putting in a way that’s quite unavoidable. A tear slides down Clarke’s cheek then.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t really want the answers to,” Clarke replies, looking down at the floor. She walks out of the room then, leaving Lexa to stare after her. Something that Lexa realizes happens quite often.

Maybe one day, she’ll go after her.

Not today though. Not today.

-

Clarke won’t look at her.

She tries to make eye contact the next day at rehearsal for hours but Clarke is doing exactly what she had done the day before. She looks everywhere but her.

And Lexa’s never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but she can’t quite manage to fake a smile. Not right now. Her movements are sloppy and when Clarke touches her, all she wants to do is cry.

Lexa is out of the room before anyone else today. It’s cold, abnormally so for this time of the month, and she barely makes it a block before her knees start to feel shaky and she has to dip into an alley to lean against the brick wall. She tries to steady her breath but her chest just feels tight. There’s tears spilling down her cheeks now, tears she’s been holding back all day, and she thinks she’s never felt heartache this deeply before. It’s everywhere - in her bones, in her marrow, in every nerve ending. It’s the only thing she can feel. 

“Hey, are you alright?” comes a voice from the entrance to the alley. Lexa’s head snaps up.

Octavia. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees that it’s Lexa, bent in half sobbing in a dirty alleyway and Lexa would be embarrassed if she had the capacity to be right now. Octavia steps further into the alley. “I would say yes but I feel like it would be incredibly obvious that I was lying,” Lexa mutters and Octavia laughs.

“Want to talk about it?” Octavia asks, tentatively and she doesn’t, not particularly but she can’t force the words out. Octavia moves even closer to her and before she has time to process anything that’s happening, her arms are around her shoulders. She stiffens. Hugs are not exactly something she’s used to - especially when they’re from people that she barely knows. But Octavia doesn’t let go and it feels warm so she lets her body relax. She doesn’t hug her back but she does let it happen. After a few moments, Octavia pulls back. Lexa’s tears have stopped.

“I’m sorry, this is incredibly embarrassing,” Lexa says and Octavia makes a face.

“We’ve all been there. After my boyfriend broke up with me, I sat on a park bench by a playground and cried for hours,” Octavia says and for some reason, that does make Lexa feel better. “Come on, I know a nice coffee shop down the street that has pastries to die for,” Octavia gestures with her head toward the exit of the alley and there’s a warm feeling in Lexa’s stomach for the first time in days.

They’re quiet as they walk and Lexa nearly walks past the shop. It’s quite small but Octavia assures her the quality’s good. She walks up to the counter and she leans over it, hugging the man behind it. “This is my brother, Bellamy. He owns this place. Bellamy this is Lexa,” she introduces and Lexa gives him a tight smile. He raises an eyebrow.

“Lexa?” He asks and Octavia shoots him a harsh look that Lexa pretends not to see. “What can I get for you?” He asks and Octavia orders for them. Lexa feels to drained to argue with her.

They’re soon settled at a table with two pastry hearts and hot chocolates in front of them. “Any chance you’re going to tell me why you were crying in an alley?” Octavia breaks the silence and Lexa shakes her head. Not a chance in hell. She knows Octavia and Clarke are close and it was bad enough that Octavia found her like that. It would be even worse of somehow, the news got back to Clarke. Octavia nods, seeming to accept that. “Try the pastry, it is really good,” Octavia nudges it toward her and really, she probably shouldn’t but it’s been a long day. Hell, a long couple of  _ weeks  _ so she deserves to treat herself.

And really it is quite delicious. They make small talk while they eat and Lexa finds she actually quite enjoys Octavia’s company. She’s quite sweet and once Lexa made it clear she had no intention of discussing the reason they were here, Octavia never brought it up again. Octavia’s phone starts to buzz and she glances down it, then back at Lexa and says, “I’m sorry, I gotta take this,” and she picks up the phone. Lexa hears a hushed “Hey, babe,” as she walks away.

Lexa doesn’t know how long Octavia is gone because she zones out. She’s shaken from her stupor when Octavia comes back, a regretful look on her face. “That’s my girlfriend. You might remember her, Raven? She was with us for a little while,” and Lexa nods. She remembers Raven. She’s been in a horrible car accident and injured her leg, effectively ending her dance career. She’d been quite good. “She lost our cat so I have to go help find her. She’s probably just on the fire escape again,” Octavia complains and Lexa can’t help but smile. There is a short pang in her chest though as she finds herself wanting that. A girlfriend to call her and say that she’s lost the cat they owned together. And if she’s being really honest with herself, she wants that girl to be Clarke. “It was good talking to you, Lexa. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Octavia says and Lexa nods. Before Octavia leaves, Lexa reaches out and grabs her arm.

“Would you mind….keeping this between us?” Lexa asks and there’s a tint of recognition in Octavia’s eyes. She nods.

“You got it,” she replies and gives a mock salute before leaving the cafe.

Lexa sits for a little while longer and as she does, she thinks that maybe having a friend might not be so bad.

-

She’s early the next morning to compensate for the fact that she didn’t stay late to practice yesterday.

Except. Nothing she’s doing feels right. None of the moves feel like she’s doing them correctly and none of the music sounds right. Clarke’s words echo in her head.  _ You have to trust yourself. Let your body do the work _ . And she wonders. Maybe if she did just let go for a few minutes and danced, just to dance, just to feel herself move, if she could get her head back on straight.

She removes her pointe shoes and puts on a slow song. She closes her eyes and she takes a deep breath, gathering the emotion from deep inside of herself.

And then she begins to move. She doesn’t quite know what she’s doing or if the way she’s moving even makes any sense but she follows the music, follows the  _ emotion  _ of the music and just lets it fill her. She moves according to how the music makes her feel.

The song comes to an end and from behind her, there’s slow clapping. Lexa’s eyes snap open and she turns around quickly.

Clarke is in the doorway. “That was beautiful,” she says softly and Lexa nods.

“I let my body do the work,” Lexa replies simply and there’s a small smile on Clarke’s face. “What are you doing here?” Lexa asks and Clarke looks around. She shrugs.

“Honestly? I don’t know. My better judgment told me to stay home and sleep the extra hour but everything else was telling me to come here and find you,” Clarke says. “I spent all night, and all day, thinking about what you asked,” Clarke starts. The conversation replays in Lexa’s head. “And I don’t want to. I don’t want to care about you anymore. You pushed when I wanted to pull and that should be enough to let me now that we’re not on the same page,” Clarke continues and Lexa thinks that each word feels like an individual stab to her heart. “But I can’t help it. It’s you I want when I wake up. It’s you before I go to sleep. It’s you in the middle of the afternoon and it’s you all of the fucking time,” Clarke emphatically says. Lexa’s heart begins to rise and she can’t dare let herself hope. Not yet. It’s too dangerous. “But I can’t do this,” Clarke says and that’s all it takes to break Lexa’s heart all over again.

“Clarke please, you have to know that I,” Lexa pauses. She doesn't  _ know  _ exactly what she does. Does she care for Clarke? Inexplicably. But in what capacity she doesn't know. And maybe all she coveted was the attention.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Clarke says, sounding quite exasperated and Lexa doesn’t even know what she wants her to say. “You didn’t think I was worth it a month ago and I can’t believe that much has changed since then. I can’t be someone who waits for you to make up your mind and decide whether or not you want me,” Clarke’s voice breaks as she speaks and Lexa’s eyes fill with tears. She wishes that they wouldn’t because Clarke is perhaps the last person on earth that she wants to cry in front of. But Lexa can’t say anything, not in this moment, to change Clarke’s mind. She cares for her, she does, but is she ready to commit to something? She doesn’t know that she is. And she can’t ask Clarke to wait for her to decide. It’s unfair and it’s selfish. Every part of her heart is telling her to be selfish, but she knows she has to make this decision with her head and not her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispers and the last bit of hope fades from Clarke’s eyes. She lets out a short huff of breath and shakes her head.

“Me too,” she mutters before turning and walking out of the door.

Lexa doesn’t go after her.

-

She tries to contain her jealousy when she looks at Niylah.

She tries to stop her heart from aching when she looks at Clarke.

She’s not very good at doing either of those things. She stares at them for too long, and she knows that she does, but she can’t help it because it  _ aches _ . But she tells herself that Clarke is happy. She has somebody who can give her what she wants and that’s what matters. Nothing else. Not how she feels, not the way her hands desire to reach out for her or the way that her mind keeps yelling that they belong together.

None of it matters.

She’s the last one out of the room and she nearly jumps when she sees Octavia waiting outside for her. She’s got a harsh look on her face and Lexa feels nervous. “You’re an idiot, you know that right?” Octavia says as if it were the most simple, undeniable truth.

“I wasn’t aware we were at a point in our relationship where you could insult me,” Lexa says back and Octavia shakes her head.

“God, you’re so thick headed. Between you and Griff, I’m surprised I don’t have bruised knuckles from trying to knock some sense into you,” Octavia says and at the mention of Clarke’s last name, her heart jumps. “She wanted you to give her a reason not to move on, you know that,” Octavia says and Lexa bites her lip. Slowly, she nods. “Then why the fuck didn’t you? I know you like her. Any dumbass with a pair of working eyes sees how explosive the two of you are together,” Octavia states and Lexa’s stomach just feels as if it’s been filled with sand. 

“She deserves somebody who knows exactly what they want. I don’t,” Lexa explains and Octavia rolls her eyes.

“You want her. The rest you should just figure out together,” Octavia says and Lexa shakes her head.

“That’s unfair to her, Octavia. I won’t force her to wait for me. That’s all there is to it, now if you’ll excuse me,” Lexa replies, pushing past Octavia to walk toward the elevators.

“You’re going to regret letting her go,” Octavia yells down the hallway at her and she keeps walking. 

She didn’t need Octavia to tell her that. She already did.

-

Clark barely speaks to her unless she has to. She barely looks at her and each time she avoids her gaze, Lexa feels like another brick is being piled onto the ones already crushing her stomach. She feels Octavia’s stares and she deliberately doesn’t meet them.

They learned a new piece and neither Clarke nor Lexa is able to nail it during the day. Clarke’s just let her out of a lift when she grabs her wrist and forces her to pause. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do, but we need to practice this, Clarke,” Lexa says and Clarke nods. She doesn’t fight her. She just walks away.

Lexa tries her best not to make it awkward when they’re alone together. They repeat the moves, again and again, and they’re still not getting it right. Lexa’s frustrated and Clarke? Well at this point, Lexa can’t read her. Her face is completely blank. Lexa groans, her calves starting to ache, and Clarke shakes her head. “You’re thinking about it too much. You have to let me lead you. I know it’s impossible for you to trust anyone besides yourself, but you have to trust me, Lexa, otherwise you’re going to keep looking like you’re afraid of me,” Clarke tells her and it’s the most she’s said to her all day. Granted, she sounds irritated and like she’d rather be anywhere else but it’s a start.

“I do trust you, Clarke,” Lexa replies, her voice barely above a whisper and it’s true. She knows that Clarke wouldn’t do anything to hurt her - at least not while they’re dancing. And the reason she’s having so much trouble doesn’t stem from lack of trust. It’s just that Clarke’s hands tend to be the only things she can focus on when they’re on her and it’s distracting. The butterflies in her stomach are distracting and so is just about every part of Clarke.

Maybe she just has to pretend that it’s someone else touching her. Someone who doesn’t send electricity coursing through her veins just by looking at her. They get into position to start again and Lexa closes her eyes. She tries to imagine that the hands on her waist are bigger, more masculine, and anything but delicate and gentle.

And it works. She still fucks up a few of the steps but nearly as badly as she had previously.

They finish facing each other and Lexa is quite close to Clarke. Their faces are merely inches apart. Clarke looks down at her lips, for a short moment, and then brings her gaze back up to her eyes. There’s intensity in them and it just makes Lexa’s heart race. There’s something like a magnetic force between them then, something that’s pulling them closer together. Their noses touch and it’s going to happen. Suddenly, it’s like Lexa’s never wanted anything more in her life.

And then Clarke pulls away. She clears her throat. “I think we can be done for today,” Clarke murmurs, her eyes lowering to the floor. Lexa’s left standing there, her eyes still shut, feeling like she’s missing something. From behind her then she hears, “I’m having a party at my place this weekend. Come if you want, or don’t, I really don’t care what you do, but I’m inviting everyone, so,” Clarke says and she’s out the door before Lexa even has time to process what she’d said.

Her mind flashes to the last time they’d been drunk together. Roaming hands, interlocked fingers, kissing. While it’s a situation she wouldn’t be opposed to repeating, she doubts that Clarke reciprocates that feeling. And Lexa can’t be certain that she trusts herself enough to drink around Clarke.

So while it was nice of her to extend the invitation, which is much more than Lexa deserves, she decides that she won’t go.

-

She goes.

It’s a last minute decision, one that she makes admittedly after seeing what Clarke was wearing on instagram.

She regrets it the instant that she arrives at Clarke’s door because she knows the invite was a courtesy one and she doubts that Clarke actually wants her there. She’s about to turn around and walk away when the door opens. It’s Octavia. She’s clearly already buzzed, a drink in her hand. She smiles when she sees Lexa. “Hi! I’m so glad you came,” Octavia says, reaching out and grabbing Lexa’s wrist to pull her inside. “Nobody thought you were going to,” Octavia continues and she feels her cheeks flush.

“My attendance was a last minute decision,” Lexa replies as Octavia drags her inside. The lighting in the apartment is dark and the room is filled with people. Lexa wonders just how Clarke managed to make so many friends after only being in town a few months. She’d been here for years, and Lexa doubts she’s ever even talked to this many people, let alone considered them close enough friends to invite them to her apartment.

The apartment looks different than it had in the light of day. Not that she’d had much of a chance to take a good look around but it feels strange to be here again. Her eyes are drawn to the door of Clarke’s room, which is closed, and memories of that night run through her head.

She finally manages to tear her eyes away from it and glance around the rest of the room. There are a few faces that she recognizes, though not many. She wonders if perhaps she’s just been quite bad at paying attention to the people around her. Her eyes land on the couch, where two people are locked at the lips, kissing each other quite intensely. And as Lexa stares (perhaps inappropriately) she realizes that the two people making out are Clarke and Niylah.

Oh God. Her stomach turns and she thinks that maybe this whole party was a bad idea. She should have just stayed home. There’s a Julia Roberts marathon on television and she could have gotten her kicks watching that. At least those movies didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach.

She can’t rip her eyes away even though she desperately wants to and it’s only when Octavia steps in front of her, obstructing her view, that she’s able to refocus. Octavia hands Lexa a drink, which she takes and promptly chugs. Octavia’s eyes widen. “Damn Woods, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Octavia says, impressed. Lexa grimaces, the taste of the alcohol burning her throat. She needs another one.

“You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of, Octavia,” Lexa says and she walks over to the table where Octavia had just come from and pours herself another drink, one that’s considerably more full than the one Octavia had given her. She takes her time with that one though. Octavia has pulled a new girl, one that she recognizes, over to her.

“Lexa, this is Raven, my girlfriend, Raven this is Lexa,” Octavia introduces and Raven is looking at her with a sour expression. Octavia hits her lightly on the shoulder and it softens, just slightly. She doesn’t put a hand out for a greeting. Instead, she fixes Lexa with a harsh stare that Lexa is glad to return. She’s not sure exactly what she’s done to Raven to warrant the cold introduction but she’s never been one to waste time on people who quite clearly don’t want anything to do with her. Octavia rolls her eyes. “Ridiculous, every single one of you,” she mutters to herself. She hooks her arm through Raven’s and leads her away, shooting Lexa an apologetic glance as she does.

Lexa takes down the rest of her drink in one gulp. It’s going to be a long night.

-

She doesn’t know how much she’s had but she does know that the girl in front of her is really beautiful and while she’s not Clarke, she  _ is  _ blonde and maybe that’s enough.

She doesn’t know her name and she’s not sure she has an interest in knowing it. She does know that this girl is looking at her with desire and she needs something to distract her because as long as she’s been here, all she’s been able to think about is the picture of Clarke on top of Niylah. Lexa leans in close. “Want to dance?” She whispers and the girl nods. She wonders if she should get her name. If she cares enough to get her name.

(She doesn’t.)

What she  _ does  _ know is that while this girl isn’t Clarke, she feels good pressed against her.

(And with her eyes closed, Lexa can pretend.)

When her eyes do open, she makes eye contact with Clarke. She’s across the room, staring, her grip on her glass tight. She’s scowling and Lexa can’t help herself. She smirks at her. She pulls the girl in front of her closer and she watches as Clarke’s nostrils flare. She puts down her drink, shaking her head. 

She doesn’t look at Lexa anymore after that.

Her heart is pounding and she’s disappointed. Maybe she wanted more of a reaction than that.

(And when she takes that girl home with her that night, when she fucks her, she thinks only of Clarke.)

-

She thought that screwing that girl might get Clarke out of her head. Replace the memory of Clarke’s hands with hers.

It didn’t.

If it did anything, it just made Lexa feel guilty. She’d thought about Clarke the entire evening and perhaps, solidified just how much she wanted her.

It’s their first time alone since the party and Clarke approaches her with a smirk. “Enjoy the party?” She asks and Lexa nods, though it’s short.

“It was adequate,” Lexa replies and Clarke laughs.

“I saw you with Jenna,” Clarke states and huh. That was her name. “Seemed like you two were hitting it off,” Clarke continues, her voice carrying a nonchalant tone and Lexa can’t figure out if it’s forced or not. Lexa shrugs.

“She was nice,” Lexa says, echoing Clarke’s words from a few days previous. Clarke bites her lip. Lexa thinks the conversation is over but Clarke continues.

“Look, I’m tired,” Clarke states and Lexa’s brow furrows. There’s not much Lexa can do for her in that regard. The only bit of advice she’d be able to offer is more sleep. “Arguing with you every single day is exhausting and I can’t do it anymore,” Clarke continues and oh. That makes slightly more sense. Lexa does feel her stomach drop though. “Things between us are never going to be great. There’s too much….history. But I think we can both agree to a truce?” Clarke suggests and Lexa thinks that it’s probably a bad idea. It’s easier to deal with her feelings when they’re spending most of their time fighting. But if they get close? Well Lexa doesn’t know if she’ll be able to keep her hands to herself. “Look I’m not asking to be your best friend or even your friend at all. I just want to stop being at each other’s throats when we’re in the same room,” Clarke adds when Lexa’s been silent for a moment. 

“Okay. Truce,” Lexa replies and she sees the relief written clearly on Clarke’s face.

“Good,” Clarke says with a smile. “Now let’s run through this thing a few more times and get the hell out of here. I’m exhausted,” she says and it’s the first thing she’s said to her that’s not held any contempt and Lexa can’t help the butterflies that begin to flutter in her stomach.

They finish and Lexa is packing up her things when Clarke speaks, “Do you want to get coffee? Solidify this truce with evidence we can stand to be around each other for more than ten minutes while we’re not dancing?” Clarke says and Lexa looks up, quite surprised. She should say no. That even with this truce, she ought to keep her distance because if she doesn’t, she might be liable to kiss her at any given moment. But she doesn’t. She feels herself nodding. 

The place Clarke leads her is the same hole-in-the-wall she’d come to with Octavia. The man behind the counter, Bellamy his name was if Lexa remembered correctly, greets Clarke quite warmly. “Hazelnut macchiato and a blueberry muffin?” He says before she even has a chance to open her mouth. She smiles.

“I should change it up one day,” Clarke comments and Bellamy snorts.

“You’re a creature of habit, Griff. Allergic to change,” he replies and Clarke huffs. She then gestures over to Lexa, who hasn’t moved from her spot halfway between the entrance and the counter since they’d gotten there.

“Get whatever you want, I’m paying,” Clarke offers and Lexa is about to protest when Bellamy leans over the counter.

“Don’t fight with her. She knows the owner,” he says with a twinkle in his eye so Lexa gets what she got last time. A hot chocolate and a pastry heart. They settle at a small table in the corner and it doesn’t take long for the awkward silence to settle between them. It strikes Lexa that she doesn’t know how to do anything but argue with Clarke. Even for that week they’d been friendly, they upheld a playful banter. Clarke clears her throat. “I don’t really know anything about you,” she says and Lexa shrugs.

“There isn’t much to know,” Lexa replies and Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“I doubt that. Everyone has a story, Lexa. What’s yours?” And it’s likely not meant to be such a loaded question but the weight of it is heavy on her shoulders the moment she asks it. She had a story, of course she did, but it was one she kept closed. She thinks that maybe it would scream like the books in the restricted section of Harry Potter did if she ever tried to open it. 

“I don’t dwell on the past, Clarke. I find it’s quite useless,” Lexa says and she has to hope that Clarke doesn’t push further because she isn’t ready for the ache in her chest to deepen when she opened her own Pandora’s box. Clarke leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I’ve been trying to figure you out since I met you,” Clarke states simply. “I admit, the reason I was attracted to you when we met was because you were such a mystery. Nobody knew you. Octavia couldn’t tell me anything about you besides your name and position. I was intrigued,” she pauses, laughing to herself. “Even when you stopped feeling like a puzzle I could solve, I still wanted to know. Nobody is that closed off for no reason,” Clarke finishes and Lexa feels unsettled. The mention of Clarke’s attraction to her put her brain into overdrive and she’s sure that if it kept going anymore, it might short circuit.

“What do you want to know?” Lexa asks and Clarke leans forward, putting her elbows on the table and resting her head atop her folded hands. 

“Where are you from?” Clarke asks and Lexa laughs.

“Des Moines,” she replies.

“Family?” Clarke shoots back quickly.

“A sister, Anya. My parents are out of the picture,” Lexa replies shortly. Clarke’s eyes widen and then she nods. 

“Middle school?” Clarke continues to spill questions at her quickly.

“Was terrible but where I met my first girlfriend,” Lexa responds.

“And she is?”

“Costia. We dated til 12th grade,” Lexa answers and a heaviness settles into her chest. She hasn’t talked about Costia in years. The memory of her still causes knots in her stomach and lumps in her throat.

“What happened?”

“She died,” Lexa states plainly and she never intended on telling her that, the rapid fire nature of the conversation causing it to spill from her mouth without a second thought. Clarke’s eyes widen.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” she says. Lexa shakes her head.

“It was years ago,” Lexa tries to dismiss it but it’s hard when the lump in her throat seems intent on growing.

“Doesn’t make it hurt less,” Clarke replies. “My Dad died when I was 19. Construction accident. It never stops hurting. Just because the hole gets smaller doesn’t mean it disappears,” and it’s the first time in years that Lexa feels like somebody understands. She’d never stop mourning Costia. It was something that was ingrained in her, a thread in the fabric of who she is. You don’t ever stop grieving and Clarke is the first person to really understand that in years.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” is all Lexa says and she wants to say more but the words seem trapped in her throat so she takes a sip of hot chocolate, hoping the heat of the drink burns the pain of the words out.

-

It becomes their thing - coffee after practice. Their extra practices get shorter and shorter and their time at the coffee shop gets longer and longer. Bellamy no longer has to ask what Lexa is ordering and their things are nearly always ready when they arrive.

It’s easy with Clarke. Lexa’s surprised how much. They’ve managed to make it a week without an argument and it’s by far their record. People in the company are still dancing, as it were, on eggshells around them to ensure they’re not liable to explode at any moment. And it’s great, really it is, except for the fact that Lexa is more certain than ever that she is head over heels for Clarke.

It was easy to pretend that maybe it was just lust when all they did was argue but know that she knows all about Clarke’s parents, her ex-boyfriend Finn back in Anaheim, and how she always cries when she watches Back to the Future because it was her Dad’s favorite film, it’s impossible to dismiss her feelings for any less than what they are: feelings.

They’re at the coffee shop, their drinks long finished and Clarke is rambling on about something and Lexa isn’t quite sure what but all she knows is that Clarke looks beautiful when she’s speaking so passionately. She’s lost in the moment. And then she’s quickly pulled from it when Clarke’s phone vibrates in front of her. Clarke picks it up and reads the text, a smile on her face. “Who is it?” Lexa asks but the sinking in her stomach tells her that she knows exactly who it is.

“Niylah. She’s been sending me sick selfies all day,” Clarke comments with a smile.

“You and Niylah, is it…..serious?” Lexa asks and it’s not her place, really it isn’t but she needs to know. She needs to know if she still has a chance. It’s foolish, she knows, to think that Clarke could ever have feelings for her again, but she still has hope, though all signs point to Clarke being well and truly over her. Clarke shrugs.

“I’m not ready to rent the uhaul yet, but I like her,” Clarke explains and Lexa’s heart sinks.

“That’s….good,” Lexa says and even she hears the insincerity in her own voice. “I’m happy for you,” she tries harder this time to make it believable but she doesn’t think she manages. They stare at each other for a moment, the silence offering much more than Lexa wishes it to. Clarke clears her throat then.

“Is there anyone in your life right now?” Clarke asks and Lexa looks down at the table, biting her lip.

She can’t lie. She doesn’t even want to lie. Perhaps this is the second opening she’s been waiting for. 

But then she remembers Niylah. And she can’t.

“There is someone,” Lexa starts and she doesn’t intend to reveal who it is - but she can’t lie to Clarke. It’s difficult to lie to someone whose eyes feel like they’re piercing through you each time you meet their gaze. “But the timing isn’t quite right,” Lexa continues, fixing Clarke with a stare that says everything she couldn’t say. She watches Clarke swallow, and she watches recognition flood her eyes. She stands then.

“Come with me,” she says and Lexa furrows her brow.

“Where?” She asks and Clarke shakes her head. She holds a hand out for Lexa to grab.

“Just come with me,” she repeats, wiggling her fingers and Lexa stares at her open palm for a moment. Finally, she puts her hand in Clarke’s and stands up.

They walk for about a mile and Clarke doesn’t once let go of Lexa’s hand. If Lexa were less selfish, she’d bring it to Clarke’s attention. But she doesn’t want to. She wants to enjoy the feeling while she can. They arrive at a nearly empty building, one that Clarke pulls out the keys to.

She flicks on the lights. On the walls hang paintings and drawings that look quite a bit like the ones Lexa had seen strewn about Clarke’s room. Lexa turns, taking in everything she sees. “What are these?” Lexa asks, breathless because what she’s seeing in front of her can only be described in one term: pure beauty.

“Mine,” Clarke says simply. There’s a few pieces on the ground and she leans down to pick one up. “I’ve been renting the space since I got here,” She pauses. “Ballet was meant to be a hobby. It only turned into my career once my Dad died and it started to be impossible to pay for everything when I was just mooching off my Mother. I’d always danced alongside doing art, but art was my passion. Not dance,” Clarke explains. “I auditioned for a few companies out in California and it stuck, My contract was up with Anaheim and I couldn’t stand the sun anymore so I moved out here,” Clarke looks around the room that’s full of white walls. “I saw this place on my first day here. I signed the lease two days later. I just have to find the courage to open the doors,” Clarke finishes.

Lexa doesn’t know what to say.

She’s awed by Clarke’s talent. Each piece on the wall, even the pieces on the floor, are breathtaking. She just doesn’t know why Clarke brought her here.

“Why did you bring me here?” She asks and Clarke looks down. She shrugs.

“I don’t know. It felt like the right moment to show somebody,” she explains and that gives Lexa pause. Was she the first person Clarke brought here?

“Clarke, these deserve to be shown to the world, they’re stunning,” Lexa says and Clarke blushes.

“Thanks. I guess I’m just not brave enough,” Clarke replies.

They stay for a little while longer, Lexa looking at as many pieces as she can.

Soon though, her stomach starts to rumble, and it’s quite loud. Clarke laughs and she closes up the space. It’s snowing and almost the moment they’re outside, Lexa’s hair is littered with snowflakes.

Clarke reaches across and pulls one out of her hair. She’s quite close. Lexa can see snow falling onto her eyelashes. Lexa’s eyes flick down to Clarke’s lips and back up again. “Lexa…” Clarke whispers and Lexa takes a step closer yet.

“What?” She asks and Clarke’s eyes shutter closed.

“I want to,” she mutters.

“Then do it,” Lexa whispers and she thinks, for a moment, that she’s going to.

And then she pulls back. “Not yet,” she replies and then she gives Lexa a sad smile and turns, walking toward her home.

And still, Lexa doesn’t go after her.

-

They don’t mention it and frankly, they don’t have much time to even think about it.

Performances are coming up and there’s barely enough to time for Lexa to breathe, let alone think about Clarke. She’s bouncing between fitting rooms, two different people working on two separate costumes and she’s running purely on caffeine. She hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in weeks, though that’s more to do with the fact that she keeps waking up from dreams of Clarke than anything else.

She runs down the hall, into the first fitting room, eyes trained on the ground. When she looks up, she sees Clarke. Half naked. Lexa’s eyes widen and she knows she should probably leave before anybody notices. She backs up and promptly runs into the rack of costumes. Shit. Both Clarke and the tailor look up. Clarke immediately notices her flushed cheeks and smirks. She doesn’t bother to cover herself up and Lexa has to bite her lip to prevent herself from saying something stupid. Clarke is still smirking when she says, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” and that only causes Lexa to flush, heraps even harder than she already had been.

“I-I should go” Lexa stammers and she doesn’t know why the sight is affecting her so much. Clarke’s right - it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. But never in the light of day and never since she realized her feelings. The tailor stands, shaking her head.

“No, you stay,” she says quite harshly and Lexa is forced to move out of her way quickly as she leaves the room muttering in what Lexa thinks is Swedish. Clarke is still standing on the podium, wearing just a tutu and a bra. Her hands are on her hips and she’s quite still.

“How many pins does she have under there?” Lexa asks, gesturing toward the tulle and Clarke laughs.

“At least thirty. I’m afraid to move in case one of them stabs me,” she says and Lexa is smiling. Silence settles over them momentarily.

“We should talk,” Lexa breaks the silence at the same time Clarke says,

“I broke up with Niylah,” and that gives Lexa pause.

Oh.

_ Oh _ . 

Lexa stays silent, mostly because her mind is having a difficult time catching up with the words that Clarke has said to her. “I just thought you should know,” Clarke says and there’s an implication in her tone that Lexa would be stupid not to catch. Slowly, Lexa nods.

“Thank you, I appreciate that piece of information,” Lexa replies and it’s not the answer Clarke wants, it’s not the answer Lexa wants to give, but they’re in the middle of a fitting room and Clarke has dozens of pins stuck to her and it’s not the right place. If they’re going to do this, hell if  _ she’s  _ going to do this, they’re going to do it right. And this? This isn’t right. But she tries to put all of the emotions in her eyes that she isn’t saying and she hopes that Clarke understands.

She isn’t saying no.

Not this time.

Because this time she knows what she wants.

And it’s Clarke. It’s always going to be Clarke. Whether they were separated by a tulle skirt full of sharp objects or thousands of miles, she’d want Clarke. It’s no contest.

They’re staring at each other when the tailor walks back in. Lexa is forced to tear her eyes away when the tailor starts to take the skirt off of Clarke. As Clarke leaves the room, she pauses and grabs Lexa’s hand. She gives it a short squeeze and in that moment, Lexa knows she understands.

-

She lets Clarke drag her to a bar with the rest of the dancers. It’s the weekend before performances start and frankly, she’s should be at home sleeping. But Clarke insisted and when she widened her eyes and pushed out her bottom lip, Lexa realized that she was completely incapable of saying no to her.

They’re pushed close together and occasionally, their hands will brush and Lexa’s face will light up like like a Christmas display. It only serves to make Clarke smile. There’s butterflies in her stomach that won’t dissipate. There’s something about knowing that they’re  _ thisclose  _ that makes her perpetually nervous. Clarke takes a french fry off of her plate and Lexa narrows her eyes. Playfully, she slaps Clarke’s hand. “Keep those to yourself,” she says and Clarke just brings the fry up to her mouth, keeping eye contact with Lexa.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” She asks teasingly and Lexa gulps.

From across the table, Octavia makes a gagging sound.

“Get a room you two. Or at least a bathroom stall,” she calls and the rest of the table breaks into laughter. Lexa blushes but all Clarke does is grin.

“She deserves better than a bathroom stall,” Lexa says, keeping her eyes trained on Clarke while she speaks. Clarke flushes then and Lexa feels a jolt of confidence flow through her. She’s not often been able to make Clarke blush so it feels good.

“You’re disgusting,” Octavia states but there’s no malice in it. If anything, she sounds endeared. Clarke is smiling at her now and Lexa thinks maybe her face is going to split from how large her grin is.

They aren’t together, not yet, but this feels as good as.

The group starts to disperse and they stay at the table. Clarke has Lexa’s palm in her hand and she’s tracing the lines of it. “I read a book on palm reading once,” Clarke says and Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Do you really believe in that hocus pocus?” Lexa replies and Clarke shrugs.

“I want to,” and she traces one line on her palm. “This one says that you’re going to live a decent length life. At least to 80,” Clarke says and Lexa laughs.

“Excellent. I can look forward to teaching ballet to my fellow elderly I suppose,” Lexa jokes and Clarke shakes her head, laughing. She traces another one and looks up at Lexa witha more serious expression.

“This one,” she pauses, “this one says that someone loves you,” and Lexa’s breath hitches. Her heart races and Clarke is looking at her with more emotion, more severity than she’s ever seen. Lexa lips her lips.

“Really? Does it tell you who?” Lexa asks and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, it’s thumping against her chest so loudly. Clarke looks as if she’s about to answer when Octavia comes over, tipsy, and grabs Clarke by the arm, begging her to dance with her. Octavia is quite unrelenting and Clarke shoots Lexa an apologetic look as she’s walking away.

Lexa watches Clarke dance, laughing into Octavia’s shoulder, moving freely unlike the way she does in the studio and there’s a sense of home that overcomes her.

And it’s clear that Lexa doesn’t need any line on a palm to tell her that she’s in love with Clarke.

-

It’s the evening of their first performance and Lexa is alone in her dressing room. She’s nervous in a way she never has been before. Her makeup is done, her hair is in a tight bun, and she’s wearing a beautiful costume but there’s something missing.

Clarke.

Lexa’s been searching for the right moment for a week but the opportunity hasn’t come and she’s nervous that the longer she waits, the more likely it becomes that Clarke would move on. And she couldn’t have that. She’d let her go far too many times in the short time that they’ve known each other and she can’t do it again.

There’s a knock on the door and someone yells, “it’s nearly curtain up Lexa,” and Lexa has to try and swallow the butterflies.

She stands behind the curtain backstage and she feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks up. Clarke. She looks….more beautiful than Lexa could possibly imagine. There’s glitter around her eyes and it only serves to accentuate their natural sparkle. Her hand slides down Lexa’s bare arm til it reaches her palm. She intertwines their fingers. “Ready?” Clarke asks and Lexa nods. Having Clarke next to her has helped most of the nerves fade. “You’re going to be beautiful,” Clarke assures and Lexa wants to reciprocate the sentiment but the words won’t come. Clarke leans over then and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you on stage, Cinderella,” Clarke comments with a small smile and then she lets go of her hand. She starts to walk away and there’s an overwhelming feeling in Lexa’s stomach that tells her  _ this is it _ . She watches Clarke’s retreating back, as she’s done far too many times.

“Wait,” Lexa calls and Clarke stops. Lexa moves toward her as quickly as she can. Clarke turns around and the moment that she does, Lexa grabs her face with two hands. She leans in and presses her lips against Clarke before she has a chance to second guess herself.

It’s fireworks again. Just like it had been the first time and then it’s more than that. It’s like she’s opening a door she’s been watching for months. Like she’d been standing in the dark and the moment she opened the door, she was flooded with light.

It feels like coming home.

They only pull apart when a voice sounds over the PA system, telling the audience to turn off their cell phones. Lexa pulls back and Clarke raises a finger to her lips. She brushes the pad of her thumb underneath her bottom lip. “Your lipstick is smudged,” she whispers and Lexa laughs.

“Worth it,” she murmurs back and then she turns, walking back to her spot.

She’d be glad to smudge her lipstick any day if kissing Clarke kept feeling like that.

-

The show goes perfectly.

She’s surprised when at the end of the performance, Clarke leaves the stage only to walk back on with a giant bouquet of red roses for her. She cries, though she wouldn’t be willing to admit that to anybody.

Every word that Clarke had uttered to her throughout these months echoed in her head while she moved.

And even through all that they went through, Lexa wouldn’t have wanted anybody else dancing aside her.

She’s ready to leave the theatre, her flowers in her arms and her bag slung off her shoulder. Clarke is waiting outside her dressing room. “What are you doing here?” Lexa asks and Clarke smiles.

“Waiting for you,” Clarke replies and walks toward Lexa. She doesn’t waste a moment. She kisses her and God, Lexa thinks that she won’t ever get sick of this.

When Clarke pulls away, her lips are red and Lexa can’t help it. “I love you,” she blurts and Clarke’s eyes widen. “Maybe I shouldn’t because we haven’t even been on a real date but I touch you and I feel like all of the lopsided bits of me go right and I know I treated you poorly for most of the time we’ve known each other but I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Lexa rambles and Clarke cuts her off with another kiss.

“I love you, too,” she says against Lexa’s lips. Lexa swears she feels tears hit her lip and she knows they’re not hers. “God, I think I’ve loved you since I met you, in some way. You frustrate me, to the end of the earth, but I know that’s exactly where I’d follow you,” Clarke confesses and Lexa is fairly certain she’s never felt this happy in her life.

Clarke loves her.

They’re  _ in love _ .

She can’t believe she didn’t fuck it up. She can’t believe that she really, really gets to have her, this beautiful girl who is made of the sun.

They intertwine their hands, grinning at each other. They leave the theatre together and Lexa’s fairly sure that that’s how they’re going to do everything from now on.

Together.


End file.
